Night Shadows Read online

  Night Shadows

  by

  Shirley Martin

  ISBN: 978-1-927111-38-3

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Books We Love

  192 Lakeside Greens Drive

  Chestermere, Alberta, T1X 1C2

  Canada

  Copyright 2011 Shirley Martin

  Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2011

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Chapter One

  Tired and footsore, dusty from her long trek along the dirt road, Fianna looked toward the east, where the last of daylight faded from the sky, firing the horizon with a scarlet glow. During the day, she had met a few travelers going in both directions, farmers hauling their produce to market, shepherds herding their flocks, riders cantering along the dirt road, creating clouds of dust. She had left several small villages behind and now trod past the open countryside, the fields rich with corn stalks, lettuce, tomatoes, and strawberries, crops she had feasted on, with no one the wiser.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her it had been hours since she'd last eaten. She approached another farm, its tempting scents of strawberries and peaches too great to resist. She looked cautiously around and saw no one. Stopping by a peach tree, she reached up for a piece of the fruit, revelling in its sweet aroma and anticipating its luscious taste.

  "What do you think you're doing?" A man emerged from behind another tree, his face set in anger.

  Too stunned to say a word, she could only stare, but when he picked up a stone to throw at her, she ran along the dusty road, all but dropping her bag.

  Much later, as she trudged along, only isolated farm houses evidenced signs of habitation, no inns to offer rest. Thirst plagued her dry throat. Perspiration soaked her dress and ran down her face. Talmora, it was hot! Facing the prospect she might have to sleep in the open this night, she sank down along the roadside, aware she couldn't go on much longer. Exhaustion dragged her down, every muscle aching. She let out one long sigh and leaned back, her elbows propped on the grass.

  Sometimes she wondered if she'd lost her mind, leaving her home in Ros Creda and all that she loved. But she would not marry Angus Kendall, the man her stepfather had chosen for her. First sewing a few of her jewels in the hem of her dress, she had sneaked out of her house in the dead of night, clambering down the ivy that clung to the outside walls, after her stepfather had locked her in her room. She missed her mother so much, and her horse, Tillie, laid up with a sore foreleg. Now she must earn her way in the capital city of Moytura, as a seamstress, if she could find employment. If not, she had a skill only a few friends knew of. She could scry, and she had packed her black mirror, just for that purpose

  Since it was summertime, sleeping in the open was not such a bad prospect. But first, a bath. A small lake bordered the southern edge of the nearest farm, clear, fresh water that offered a temptation too tantalizing to resist. A thorough survey of the area convinced her she was alone. She headed down the grassy slope toward the lake, sidestepping rocks, inhaling the sweet fragrance of summer flowers. Leery of any other travelers that might come this way, she hid her canvas bag behind a bush with her belt and dagger beneath it. She unbuttoned her dress, letting it slip to the ground. After retrieving her dress and draping it over the bush, she stepped out of her shoes and kicked them aside. Afraid to take a chance someone might see her, she decided to bathe in her linen shift. Ah, that water looked good. Now–

  "Well, what do we have here?"

  Shock jolted her, a rapid heartbeat that sent her temples throbbing. A sudden chill raced across her arms and down her legs. She jerked around and faced a middle-aged man–a vagrant by the looks of him–with long greasy hair and dressed in rags. "Stay away from me!" She crossed her arms in front of her and backed away, keeping a wary eye on the tramp. Rape. The word invaded her mind and froze her stomach.

  Bloodshot eyes roved her body, a sly leer on his face.

  She took another step back, her heart pounding like drums. "You stay away from me!" she repeated. Goose bumps blossomed along her arms, and nausea made her swallow spasmodically. Her dagger! No use to her now; she could never get it quickly enough and knew she couldn't overpower him.

  He chuckled, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Wish I could stay here with you. Me 'n' you could have a good time together. But I promised a fella I'd meet him before sundown," he said, nodding toward the eastern horizon. "We're planning a little . . . um, job, and if I'm late, he'll git someone else." His gaze roved the meadow, his eyes catching her dress draped over the bush. "Say, that's a purty dress ya got there."

  "No!" Goddess, no! Her jewels sewn in the hem! "That's my dress! No!"

  "Oh, yes." He grinned. "Just might do for my woman."

  "No, Goddess damn you! You leave my dress alone."

  "Just one dress, lady. Ya still got yer shift. A purty girl like you shouldn't have no trouble finding a man to buy ya more dresses." He looked around. "And shoes! Yeah, I'll take them, too."

  "No!" She grabbed at his arm, her fingernails digging into his skin, but she was no match for his solid strength. She wanted to kill the bastard.

  He jerked the dress from the bush, sharp branches ripping at the fabric, then grabbed her shoes.

  "No, damn it!" She bent over and seized a rock. If she aimed right, she could knock him out. Then she'd have to run and hide, but--

  "Oh, no, you don't!" First dropping the shoes, he twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her to drop the rock. With one hard shove, he knocked her down and ran off. She fell to the ground with a hard thud, breathing heavily.

  "No, oh, no." Slowly, she lifted herself from the ground, knees raised, fingers pressed to her head. She sat unmoving, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. All her jewels, her means of paying her expenses until she obtained a position. And her gold! Cold despair chased every thought from her mind, leaving desolation in its place. How could she have been so stupid, to sew her jewels and gold coins in the hem of her dress? But where else could she have hidden them? At the time, it seemed like a good idea.. Now she had nothing, no means of supporting herself.

  Nothing.

  * * *

  Mile markers along the Royal North Road indicated she still had five miles to go before she reached Moytura—her destination. Night would soon arrive; one more night to spend in the open, as she had done since leaving her house. Calluses studded the bottom of her feet, cuts and scratches a constant misery. Unable to dismiss the depression that had gripped her ever since her dress and gold were stolen, she realized she had no choice but to continue on, to reach Moytura as soon as possible. It would not take her stepfather long to discover she'd lied. No doubt, he'd sent someone to find her. Or else Angus Kendall had sent someone–or gone himself. She'd slept in woodsy areas along the way, and now her body ached, every muscle from her neck to her feet., especially her bare feet. Hunger tormented her; she needed something more filling than fruit and vegetables she'd filched along the way. She longed for a juicy steak and a warm slice of bread, a glass of wine and a whole apple pie. Her stomach growled, her mouth stone dry with thirst as she ascended another steep hill, grabbing branches for support.

  The first faint stars sparkled in an ink black sky, a full moon silvering the ground. From previous trips to Moytura, she remembered a cave nearby, one and her family had explored with torches because of its deep caverns and fascinating interior. It would be cool, too, a welcome relief from the heat, so she'd
spend the night there and reach Moytura tomorrow morning. Once in the capital, how in the name of the Goddess could she support herself? The more she thought about it, the sillier the idea of scrying became. As if she could earn money that way. So, she'd have to find a position as a seamstress, if only she could.

  After much searching and retracing her steps, she found the cave about one-half mile to the east. Her feet hurt, her shift and dress soaked with perspiration. She gingerly entered the cool cave, the sound of dripping water most welcome as she looked ahead to utter darkness. A few steps led to the source of the water, and countless times of filling her hand with water slaked her thirst. So glad to find a place to rest and not worry about discovery, she tried to disregard the metallic odor and taste of the water.

  Near the entrance where moonlight pooled inside, she raised her dress over her head, then sank down in her linen shift on the cold limestone floor and stretched out on her back. She changed her position time and again, until she achieved what little comfort was possible, lying on her side, her hands tucked under her head. Her eyes closed, and sleep just breached the edge of her consciousness, when a voice jolted her awake.

  "Well, now, it seems I have company."

  Chapter Two

  No! Fianna jerked upright, hands clenched at her sides. Her heart pounded so hard she felt every beat in her ear drums. Goddess! She had been spared ravishment days ago. She feared she wouldn't escape again. Jerking to her feet, she started to run but fell over her satchel and landed flat on the limestone. Her hands stung, the breath knocked out of her, her knees throbbing. She had to get up, had to escape!

  She twisted around. By the moonlight that pooled into the cave, she saw a tall man rush her way from the dark interior. His eyes were like pinpoints of light, and he moved with the sleek grace of a leopard. He exuded vitality, a raw, sexual power. With dark hair and a sinewy, solid build, he was quite handsome, but no less dangerous. Run, get away! every beat of her heart told her. She'd never get up in time.

  Reaching down, he placed his arm around her waist and helped her rise, his hands strong but gentle. "Are you all right?" he asked in a deep voice.

  Breathless, she nodded, still unable to talk. "All right," she said after a few moments of charged silence. She sank back down and blew on her bruised hands and rubbed her knees. Still noting his worried expression, she dropped her hands to her sides. "See, all in one piece." She spoke flippantly, needing to mask the fear that pulsed through her body. She licked dry lips, but no words came. Shivers raced down her arms and legs. Perspiration slicked her skin. She was no match for this stranger, this man who could overwhelm her, have his way with her.

  "If you're sure . . . " He stared at her for a few moments. "Well! I must say, this is a pleasant surprise. Up to now, I've had this dwelling to myself." He made a wide gesture. "But surely two can share this primitive abode." His voice, deep and sensual, washed over her like a perfumed bath, making her forget her fear, forget everything but his presence. If he was going to ravish her, he would have taken her by now. Or so she hoped.

  He made a slight bow. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Gaderian Wade of Moytura, taking up temporary residence here. I recently purchased a house in the city and am having it renovated."

  So why didn't he sleep at an inn?

  "Ah, the inns," he said, as if he could read her mind. "Quite noisy at times. Difficult for a fellow to sleep." He crouched down beside her, and she wrenched back, wildly looking around for a way to get out of the cave.

  "No, don't be frightened. I won't hurt you. But it puzzles me to see such a pretty young lady residing inside a cave. I hate to see a lady in distress."

  "I–" She bit her lower lip, at a loss to explain her predicament, still wondering if she could trust him, despite his reassuring words.

  He sat down and stretched one leg out, his hands at his side. His tunic looked to be of silk, a wide belt circling his waist, the black leather studded with silver. Even in the dark, she saw his shiny leather boots that reached just past his ankles. His eyes covered her, his gaze clear and direct, as though he could see her unclothed. Her face burned at the thought. At the same time, his gaze held a look of sympathy, but surely that was her imagination.

  "Madam?"

  Pushing herself up straight against the cave wall, she found her voice. "I left my home in Ros Creda several days ago and–"

  "Mind telling me why?"

  "Sir that is not your concern."

  He dipped his head. "Very true. But you must admit it's unusual for a well-bred lady–which you appear to be–sleeping in a cave, after running away from home."

  "I never said I ran away from home," she countered, stunned by the accuracy of his guess.

  "Ah, my mistake. You are merely taking a vacation by yourself, and you met with misfortune along the way."

  "Something like that." The robbery, her jewels gone! Her stomach lurched at the memory.

  He brushed limestone dust from his hands. "I hate to see a lady in such unfortunate circumstances as you appear to be. Gladly would I pay for your food and lodging until you find employment, if that is your plan. Once I fetch gold from my home, I can meet you someplace and lend you the money."

  "You are kind, sir, but I prefer to make it on my own."

  He threw her a sharp look. "How, if you have no money?"

  Did he think he was her guardian, asking her these personal questions? "That's my business."

  He nodded, drawing his legs up. "True enough. And I'd like nothing more than to stay here. But I fear I must leave you now." Before she knew what he intended, he leaned closer to kiss her, his hand behind her head. In spite of her misgivings about this stranger, she found herself responding as a wave of heat hit her midsection. Was her reaction because of her depression? Or in spite of it? No matter the reason, she didn't want the kiss to end. The touch of his lips filled her with so many teasing thoughts, of fantasies she had only dreamed about. Tempted to reach up and touch his face, run her fingers through his curly hair, she kept her hands demurely at her side. But he stopped all too soon and pushed himself to his feet. He made another slight bow. "Goodnight, madam. Sleep well. Perhaps we will meet again."

  She hoped they would, and why, she had no idea. "Goodnight, sir."

  "Gaderian," he corrected. "And I didn't get your name."

  "Fianna." No point in telling him her last name, and she immediately regretting telling him her first. No word must reach her father or Angus that she had escaped to Moytura.

  "Goodnight, Fianna."

  As he disappeared from view, the question persisted. Would she see him again? She touched her lips where he had kissed her, and another wave of warmth stole over her body, settling in the lower regions. Strange, no one had ever kissed her like that before, an experience she would never forget.

  * * *

  Outside the cave, Gaderian walked a few yards down a rocky cliff thick with weeds and overgrown shrubbery to a copse of elms where his horse, Bryce, was tethered, the black stallion munching on the grass. With a skill honed throughout many centuries, he had created a spell around the horse, so that no one could approach it closer than three feet. An invisible shield protected his horse from theft. After loosening the reins, he placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted the stallion, then trotted down the hill, easing his horse to a canter after he reached the Royal North Road. The light of a full moon brightened the trees and the isolated houses along the route, a million stars illuminating the way. Overhead, a cloud drifted in front of the moon, then passed on, leaving the night sky clear. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees and ruffled his hair.

  Of course, he could make himself invisible and transport himself to the capital, but his horse needed exercise. Besides, the ride into Moytura gave him time to think and plan.

  He smiled, recalling the lady he'd so recently left, and wondered if he would, indeed, meet her again but considered it unlikely in a city the size of Moytura. And why did he want to see her again? There
could never be anything between a mortal woman and a creature such as he. Not that he regretted his world of the undead, far from it. He'd chosen this path centuries ago, and not once had he regretted his decision. To think of the power, not to mention immortality, why would anyone choose otherwise, if given a choice? Night after night, he gave silent thanks to Moreen, the woman who had transformed him so long ago, at a time of deep despondency, when he had seriously contemplated suicide. Once or twice every year, he and Moreen met again, renewing their friendship, sealing their relationship with a frolic in bed, a romp that left them both satisfied, but nothing more, for each remained free to seek pleasure elsewhere. And he found enjoyment in many places, Gaderian mused with a chuckle.

  Passing the cluster of trees and bushes along both sides of the road, the cottages that rested on small plots of land, he slowed to a canter again. The spires of Moytura came into view, the houses becoming finer as he neared the city, these mansions of brick or gray stone and boasting three stories. No small plots of land here, for most of these stately houses were set on several acres. His house, recently purchased, stood farther back from the road.